


Thunderstorms

by BeTheSammyToMyDean



Series: Wincest One Shots [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play Little Sam Winchester, Angst, Cute, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Dean Winchester, Soft Dean Winchester, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 01:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18187874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeTheSammyToMyDean/pseuds/BeTheSammyToMyDean
Summary: Whenever Sam regresses, he's terrified of thunderstorms. Dean has to step up and protect him and make him feel safe.





	Thunderstorms

Dean had never been afraid of thunderstorms. Sure, back when he was little and everything was still normal, there had been times at night when he didn't really like the loud rumbling. Back then, before Sammy was born, he had just curled up with Mary and John in their bed, laying between them with Mary's soft arms around him and John's heavy breaths in his hair. Back then, Dean was the one who got comfort whenever he needed it. Back then, Dean was still allowed to be afraid of anything. But then things happened, Mary died, and Dean had to be an adult. He had to take responsibility for Sam and care for him, and ' _not be so selfish with that cryin' of yours, boy_ '. He had to be an adult at four, and with being an adult, he couldn't be afraid of anything anymore. 

Sam could. Sam was allowed to be afraid, to be babied, to be a child. Which made it kind of confusing as to why  _he_ was the one who regressed, but, Dean didn't question it. He was a good soldier, he just did what his father told him to- and then when John died, he did what Sam told him to. He never even had a thought of his own. Sam was afraid of thunderstorms when he was little in his mind, and big in his body. The sounds and the lights terrified him, they made him tremble and cry and beg for Dean to hold him.

And Dean did it. Dean always did it. No matter how much he cried on the inside, he always made sure that Sammy came first. Because Sammy  _did_ come first, always. No one mattered as much as Sammy did, now did they? 

Whenever thunderstorms happened, Dean wrapped himself around Sam and whispered sweet nothings in his ears. He made him feel safe and loved, and made sure that he could sleep even with the loud rumbling in the background. Nothing mattered, only Sam. And in those moments, Dean finally felt like  _he_ mattered too. Like he was worth something, like he was good enough for anything. This was what he was good at. He might not be good at anything else, or worth anything else, but at least he could take care of someone who mattered so much more than he did. He was brought up like this, raised with the thought that this was all he needed to do. All he needed to do was take care of Sam, and if he wasn't good enough at that? Well, then he wasn't good enough at anything. 

So, Dean curled around Sam's trembling body, pushed away his own feelings -if he could even let himself feel anything- and comforted Dean. He didn't need comfort himself, he wasn't allowed to ever be comforted. Any feelings that he had, any fear that he had, were pushed away so he could focus completely on what mattered: Sam. 

Dean had been jealous at first. There had been moments that he had to bite back remarks and push down thoughts. He wondered why it  _always_ had to be about Sam. Sam got  _everything_ that Dean didn't get. He was so annoyed with himself that he thought this way, and he hated himself for it. But he couldn't stop himself. He tried, really, but he couldn't stop the thoughts from coming. Everything was  _always_ about Sam. Sam was the one who got all the attention, who had multiple people worry about him and take care of him- hell, when Sam left and John told him to  _never come back if he stepped a foot out of that door?_ Yeah, John later told Dean that that was just to push Sam in the right direction. Because if John hadn't said that, Sam would've never left, and he would've never gotten a shot at a normal life. So, everything was always about Sam- even this. Even this whole... Age play thing. And yeah, Dean hated it, but he couldn't stop it. He wasn't going to stop it. He was just going to take care of Sam and comfort him because, well, that was all he could do. That was all he had ever been taught to do. Dean didn't know what else to do other than kill, drive. drink, and take care of Sammy.

It wasn't that he didn't love taking care of Sam, hell, it was all he could do. But, fuck, he wanted to be the one to be taken care for once. Fucking hell, just one time. That never happened, though. Maybe because Dean didn't let Sam, maybe because Sam didn't even think that Dean needed love like that. 

Maybe Sam didn't even know that Dean had feelings, too.

But, despite the fact that it hurt Dean whenever thunderstorms happened when Sam was little, he still stepped up and took care of Sam. He undressed him, got him in his onesie, put a stuffed animal in his arms (Sam's favorite, a stuffed dog), and put him to bed. After getting his own pants off, he curled up with Sam and pulled him to his chest to hold him close. This always calmed down, and the bigger man put his head under Dean's chin. This position hurt Dean's back, but he never complained- it got Sam quiet and happy, so, what more did he want? Well, there was a lot that he wanted, but no one cared about that, or not enough at least. So, Dean kept quiet, and took care of his little brother. 

"De?"

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean softly asked, rubbing Sam's head, trying not to get his fingers tangled in the long strands. That would make Sam mad at him, and Dean didn't want Sam mad at him, ever. Especially not when he was little, because it was a bitch to make it up to him again. Adult Sam was stubborn, but, fuck, little Sam was even more stubborn. The flashes and rumbling was still happening in the distance, but Sam's tears were dried and he was no longer even sniffling. Sam tended to forget easily whenever he was regressed. 

"I'm tired, and cold, and I want food." Sam's whining sometimes got on Dean's nerves, but there was nothing he could do. It was probably his own fault, too. Maybe he just spoiled Sam too much, and made him into this little monster who wouldn't stop whining 'till he got exactly what he wanted- no matter how hard it was on Dean. Maybe Dean had just done this all to himself. 

"I'll get you some food, okay? How about some mac 'n cheese?" Dean softly asked, but Sam was already ignoring him again. The older Winchester brother sighed before getting up, deciding to just go and get Sam his food. There was no point in trying to get Sam's attention. The thunderstorm was gone, along with Sam's need for hugs and cuddles. Dean sighed, pushing away the hurt before going to the small kitchen to start on the food for Sam. It was never going to change. All Dean was ever going to be was someone who took care of anyone else, and never got anything back for it...


End file.
